


A dance on the brink

by NTK



Series: Who needs plans anyway [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Gore, Feral Behavior, Geraskier, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Not Beta Read, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Torture, Vampire Bites, thingsaresofuckingclose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTK/pseuds/NTK
Summary: Sequel to 'Evil begets evil' - When the wolf awakens, no vile creature can stop him; none but one – and boy, does she try. Fickle decisions must be made, and karma is served. Yet still, with so much at stake, one wrong step and the abyss is inevitable…
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Who needs plans anyway [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700353
Comments: 23
Kudos: 258





	A dance on the brink

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is… *drumroll* …our climax. I can’t believe this is the eighth part already! Initially, I had planned five at most (initially-initially, it was supposed to be one shot – in case you wondered why I didn’t just post one fic with chapters instead of making it into a series). But every story needs to end and preferably before it is drawn out, like some once-appreciated sitcoms and series’. However, there will be one more chapter after this, and one or two optional, short spin-offs – so this is not goodbye yet 😊  
> Thanks again for all the love you shared in the comment section and by kudo-ing!! I sincerely hope y’all agree with the way things go down in this part! Enjoy reading! <3
> 
> PS: One more thing that I forgot to mention earlier on (SPOILERS FOR THE WITCHER III AND RELATED DLCs): If you played ‘Blood and Wine’ and made Geralt meet the unseen elder, he would know more about Orianna, her orphanage, etc. However, since in this story Syanna is alive, consider that Geralt never got to the unseen and therefore only ever met Orianna briefly at the Mandragora soiree.

The screams and sounds of metal clashing were audible even in the dungeon. They seemed to come from outside, but Pierre couldn’t be sure. Damn. If whoever attacked the place had no use for him, he’d be completely defenceless in his state. What a way to go, imprisoned in the basement of some estate he wouldn’t even be able to locate on a map. The least he could hope for was that these fucking siblings got killed in whatever went down. And that Julian somehow made it out.

The door handle squeaked as it was pushed down from the other side. Pierre shuffled back into the farthest corner of his cell as the door slowly opened.

“There’s nothing here, you can get right back!”, he called.

A distorted visage appeared in the door frame, but Pierre recognized it and relief flooded him. It was the one he loved.

Emilia hurried in and ripped the cell door right off the bars before she transformed back into her human form. As her claws were still retracting, the pair met hallway in the cell, their lips clashing together as she sunk to her knees before him.

“Are you alright?”, she panted against his mouth.

“Yes, just a few bruises.”

The vampire took his face into her hands; her index finger carefully traced the cut over his eye and her expression grew pained and angry.

“I never wanted you to get hurt. The things I did to prevent that… but it all went to shit anyway.”

He gently took her hands into his and looked back at her with intent.

“We can still help him.”

Her eyebrow shot up in confusion. “You know?”

“Partly. I think. We need to help him, Emilia.”

She nodded. “I know. And I will, but I’ll get you to safety first; I’m not going to lose-“

“There is no time! _She_ is with him!”

For a crucial moment, they only looked into each other’s eyes, knowing that they thought the same. Orianna had to be dealt with or she would never leave them alone.

“I don’t know if I can take her on my own.”

“I’ll help-“

“No! She’d kill you in an instant; I already betrayed her, she has no use for you alive.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he nodded upwards and to the source of the war-like background noises. “Even without me, I have a feeling you won’t have to deal with her alone.”

Her frown held pain and guilt; something she wouldn’t share with anyone but him. “They might just try to kill me once they’re done with her. And I couldn’t even blame them. What I did…” He looked at the woman he loved and knew that she was afraid. Not to die; not even of the exile that awaited them, but of herself and that she could lose Pierre. “I am what I am and I will always fight to protect you.”

His smile wouldn’t falter, despite her despair. Because he loved her still and knew that although he himself wasn’t eternal, his feelings for her were. He knew her, in all her forms, with all her faults. And if nothing else, even if they wouldn’t last the night, he knew he could save her. So Pierre just leaned over and kissed her.

“You won’t lose me, no matter what. Let’s salvage what we can and when it’s all over, we’ll elope again. A second honeymoon.”

Her smile was faint at first, and sad but it grew more confident with each second.

“You’re right. As always. Let’s.”

\- - -

It was a fucking massacre if Lambert had ever seen one. And could it have been any other way? This was personal, after all. And yet, the torn limbs and blood-soaked ground in the courtyard made him think that maybe this was another reason the Trial of the Grasses had taken their ability to procreate. Because evidently, nothing stood a chance against a feral witcher.

Sure, Geralt was a good fighter, but he’d never seen him like his. His brother hacked and slashed his path straight through the inner yard. The lesser vampires that had descended on them from the towers were a surprise, but to Geralt, it didn’t even seem to matter: He’d simply drawn silver with his free hand and continued to fight with one blade in each, completely neglecting their training.

As he slew another merc, Lambert had to laugh. What uncle Vesemir would say if he saw his favourite boy like that; all feral and raw power. But it was impressive. The speed, the force he smashed his opponents with…

Well, however tasty the bard might’ve looked on one or two days, Lambert was a clever man. He’d not risk having to face THAT.

“Pull through! We got this!”, he shouted over to the White Wolf before ducking, parrying and counter-attacking a merc’s swing. Once he’d withdrawn his sword from the man’s heart, he had enough room and time to turn around. If Geralt had heard him or not remained a mystery; he was approaching the main entrance either way, with Regis next to him, leaving havoc and destruction in their shadows. Fuck, the bard was one lucky omega.

Lambert ‘aard’ed a howling pair of guards away and switched to his silver blade to take care of an approaching ekimmara. He had to catch up to Eskel. Although he doubted that they’d find Jaskier in the lower part of the castle, there was no time to waste. Triss scorched another lower vampire to his right while Yennefer dealt with three mercs next to the gate. Yap, he could leave the yard in their hands – those bastards didn’t stand a chance against the sorceresses.

\- - -

Geralt made it up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Just a few more and they’d be inside.

 _Jaskier_ …

All air was pushed out of his lungs when a heavy wing hit him right in the chest and sent him flying back into the dust at the foot of the stairs. The large beast had landed right between him and the heavy double door. A Katakan; an old one judging by his enormous size. Before he could get up, the lesser vampire howled and ducked, ready to jump after him.

Through the red mist that clouded his vision, Geralt saw Emilia appear right between him and the Katakan – and a split second later, she ripped the beast’s jaw right off, snapped its neck and pushed the dying vampire over the side of the low stone bannister.

Geralt growled and jumped to his feet. The bare sight of her made him sheath his steel blade and charge with sharp silver in both hands. She parried his attack by jumping onto the bannister but made no attempt to retaliate. His igni had her jump again, to the door this time, which she kicked open, her sheer force unhinging its wings. As they crashed to the floor of the hall inside, the witcher took a step forward and Emilia mimicked his steps backwards.

“I’m here to help!”

He didn’t care, ripped his third swallow potion from his side while he stalked towards her, downed it and smashed the vial on the floor. When he lunged at her again, the alp was still too quick. She fled inside, shouting: “Fine, come then!”

The witcher was on her tail; hunted her like a hound its prey; up the broad staircase in the hall and down a corridor, but damnit – even with all the potions coursing through his veins, he never came close. Until she stopped all of a sudden in a large gallery somewhere on the second floor. Her head turned back; her eyes focused on something behind the witcher, who was just about to catch up. Only a few steps and-

“There he is!”

Not taking his eyes off the vampiress, Geralt paused mid-movement as he heard two people enter the gallery behind him.

“Finally we meet, witcher.”, a female voice said. “Can’t say I blame the omega for taking a liking to you.”

“And who the fuck are you?”

Emilia answered for them. “Dijkstra’s spies. The ones who told him about you and Jaskier in the first place. Who tried to abduct him in the Throttled Gull.”

The witcher spat in her direction. “Wouldn’t believe a word from your mouth. You lured us into the mountains, knowing what would happen. And then you took him away from me.”

The pair snickered, making his blood boil. But Emilia stayed calm.

“Yes. And I regretted everything even as I did it. Knowing what he meant to you; what they would do to him.”

The hurt look in her eyes was almost too much for Geralt. He wanted to send her into oblivion, annihilate every living vampire that walked the earth, destroy everything that was good.

“I know that love.”, she continued. “And I wanted to keep mine for a bit longer. But now I understand that it’s worth nothing if I take it from you and your songbird. So I will help you get him back. We’re almost there.”

“Are you done?”, the other spy -a man- called. “Because you’re almost dead, that’s what you are. The omega and his abomination of a child belong to the chancellor.”

Geralt snarled and exchanged another glance with the vampire before he reluctantly made up his mind. He knew he’d probably regret it, yet he turning his back on her, facing the human instead. Both the man and the woman looked at him with wide but tired eyes. They each had well-crafted, fine daggers in their hands, ready to charge. Geralt found that their smell… was off. Too much chemicals in their blood. Addicts, probably.

“You interrupted us, freak. We were just about to play with your favourite toy.”, the guy sneered.

“And will continue to do so once we’re done with you. I hope you didn’t ruin him already.”

“But maybe we should keep him alive, just a bit, Verona.”, the man suggested, grinning like a maniac. “I’ve always wanted to play with a witcher. Their tolerance for pain is said to be-“

Whatever the man thought a witcher’s pain tolerance was like, he never got to tell. Instead a sharp cry erupted from throat as the women’s blade hit him between the rips.

“W-What the f-fuck…!?” He coughed and sputtered, blood seeping out of the side of his mouth. Verona stared at her bloody dagger in shock.

“MERAS! NO!”

The witcher’s hand was still raised from casting axii on her. They wanted pain? He’d give them pain. Before the two could overcome their confusion, the witcher had Meras slash his dagger through Verona’s midsection. She screamed and fell to her knees as her blood and part of her intestines splattered onto the ground between them. Both fell to her knees, Meras coughing up more blood. But Geralt wasn’t done. With what energy they had left in their dying bodies, he worked them like a puppeteer, made them stab each other again and again; their screams rang in his ears and the beast inside him hummed, satisfied with the cruelty the pair had brought on themselves. It didn’t take long.

“Better?”, Emilia eventually asked almost nonchalantly behind him.

When the spies stopped twitching on the ground, Geralt turned back to her. She stood there, looking at the corpses, a satisfied look on her face. Geralt heaved.

“Before we continue or pointless chase, let me at least point out that this won’t work on Orianna. You’ll have a hard time saving Jaskier without another vampire.”

“Already have one.”

“He’s one floor beneath us, cornered by our kin. With the anathema, Regis is a favourable target.” Fuck. “But either way, your chances are still better with two, especially if she just fed and you’re half stupid from fury and decoctions.”

He snarled and raised his sword again. “You’re walking on thin fucking ice.”

“That’s my speciality.” She took a small and careful step towards him, her hands held up defiantly. “Geralt, do you want to save him or not?”

His rage screamed at him; demanded him to kill her, make her pay for what she’d done to them. Another, bigger part urged him to focus on what was more important. Jaskier.

The toxicity that came with the potions he’d swallowed slightly clouded his mind; made it hard to think straight, but she had a point. And more importantly, there was no time for indecisiveness. He cursed.

“When this is done,” -he lowered his blade- “you better run and hide in the deepest hole you can find, because I will come for you.”

Emilia tilted her head. “Understood. I will help you, nonetheless. One last unwanted intrusion, that I promise. Just…don’t stab me in the back before we’ve settled this?”

“We’ll see about that.”

A hum had him turn around. Regis had just materialised over the dead spies in the doorway. He smiled faintly and came to stand beside the witcher. “I knew you’d make the right choice, my friend.”

“Yeah, whatever. We need to-“

Before he could finish pointing out why they were here, a strangled cry from somewhere on the floor had all three turn their heads.

“Fuck!!”

In an instant, Geralt was on the move.

\- - -

It hurt like hell. With each of Orianna’s greedy gulps, the wound at the back of his head throbbed in tune with the burning pain on his wrist. Although she was drinking his blood, it felt like she breathed hot ice and needles into his veins.

After a few minutes, the sensation started to fade and Jaskier grew tired. His limbs tingled as if they were slowly going numb. He wanted to give in to sleep, the absence of suffering. Sweat ran down his temples. He felt so hot, although a distant thought told him that he should be cold. Shouldn’t you feel cold when dying? His head swam with dizziness and he could barely focus his gaze anymore. Maybe that was just it. That was how it was supposed to end.

A whimper escaped his lips. He wanted to touch his abdomen; wanted to say goodbye. But due to the ropes and his only free hand being in her clutches, even this small mercy was denied to him.

_I’m sorry I didn’t do right by you. I’m sorry you never got to live…_

His eyelids were heavy, and he distantly felt his hand touch Orianna’s cheek as she continued to suck the life out of him; slowly killing him. Still, _any_ touch was better than being alone now. Suddenly-

“Aaaah!!”

With a shriek, the vampire shied away and tumbled to the floor. Without her support, his arm fell down and dangled weakly across the bedside, blood still flowing out of him, painting the expensive carpet red. Out of the corner of his sight, Jaskier saw the unclear vision of Orianna in shock, holding the spot where his palm had just been. Her face was distorted in agony and the skin between her fingers was pitch black.

“How…?”, she panted in anger.

He didn’t care how, but his hand was free, and he gathered what little strength he had left to heave it up and over his lower midsection.

“Leave us… be…”

The vampire’s gaze followed his hand and her eyes grew even wider. “It can’t...!”

With a loud blast, the door was pulverised and Orianna jumped to her feet, standing between the bed and whoever had just arrived.

A faint hope mixed with adrenalin made the bard turn over and look up. Few meters away from him in the doorway, Geralt stood, his eyes as black as the veins surrounding them. He looked almost unrecognizable; his muscles strained and his expression as dark as the one of a rabid, feral animal.

“G-Geralt…”, Jaskier panted.

It was in the split second when the witcher recognized him when Orianna leaped over to the alpha. She’d turned and her claws left wide slashes in his chest armour. Geralt didn’t even flinch and with a speed that almost matched hers, he gripped her throat and slammed her onto the ground. Abandoning his sword, he raised his free fist and smashed it down on her face.

Black smoke shot through the door, passed the fighting pair and next to Jaskier, two people materialised from it. He recognized the face closest to him. In an impulse, his hand shot up and cast another flare of fire at it. Emilia shrieked and turned away in pain before the hand of the second figure grabbed his wrist.

“Geralt, he was bitten!”, Regis’ voice echoed through the room. “We have to hurry!”

Something slashed the ropes holding his second arm and legs. The witcher howled, and their eyes met briefly, despair visible in the pitch black orbs that should be yellow. The next moment, Orianna’s shriek brought the wall behind Geralt down and sent him flying through the rubble into the corridor. He crashed into the next wall and sank down to the ground, His eyes shut, his body motionless.

“No!!”

Jaskier didn’t know how, but he came to his feet. Next thing he knew, Emilia and Regis were with Orianna, each holding one of her arms. She dematerialised, but together, they matched her speed, capturing her wherever she appeared next. Clouds of dark fog dancing around one another in the broad corridor.

The bard’s attention was on Geralt however. He tried to limb over to him, stumbled over the rubble towards him, only distantly aware that he left a bloody trace behind him. He tried to call out but could barely hold himself up. _Please wake up, wake up-_

Jaskier made it half-way – before he felt something sharp on his throat and heard a loud crack. Then, a searing pain exploded in his right arm.

\- - -

Geralt was ripped from unconsciousness by the most horrible sound of his mate’s scream. He opened his eyes and his insides clenched at the sight before him. Orianna was behind Jaskier, her claw on his throat and the other holding his arm in a weird angle. Geralt didn’t need to see it up close to know that it was broken.

“Don’t waste your last seconds on hope, omega.”, the lady vampire sneered. “Witcher, make your choice. Even he comes with me or he will die here and now. And you!”, she shouted at the approaching fumes that were Regis and Emilia. “Try to get to me and I will slit his throat!”

Geralt couldn’t move. His silver sword had to be somewhere behind Orianna underneath the rubble; he couldn’t cast any signs since she held his passed out omega like a shield before her. No sign of the others. No hope left. They had lost. The triumphant expression on the ginger’s face told him as much.

“How could even an enhanced human stand a chance against me? All your mutagens and yet, you’re powerless.”

He was.

“What did it get you to live your life in the service of humans; slaying my kind in turn for someone like him?” She lifted Jaskier up a bit, her razor-sharp claw lightly cutting into the skin of his throat and Geralt sharply inhaled, raising his hand for her to stop.

“No, please!”

He felt like back on the Isle of Mists, when he’d hoped-, prayed that the lifeless body on the bed wasn’t Ciri. Jaskier couldn’t die; he would do anything, ANYTHING to save him.

Orianna only looked back at him with a mixture of pity and disappointment. “How many years would he have had left anyway – forty, sixty at most? Ridiculous. You would’ve lost him long before your time anyway. I’m sure the thought crossed your mind, but you were to weak to handle it.”

Something happened behind her. The vampire was so caught up in her apparent victory that she didn’t notice the shadow that emerged from the crumbled bedroom entrance.

“You’re nothing but a freak playing with powers far beyond your comprehension.”

The tall blond man moved without a sound; his arm unnaturally extended by something shiny. Geralt didn’t dare to breathe.

“You’ve forgotten your place. Let me show it to y-”

Another shriek of the Bruxa pressed his back into the wall and send vibrations through the entire building. Her arm -the one with the claw that had been at Jaskier’s pulse- dropped to the ground unceremoniously as the stranger stood next to the vampire, Geralt’s silver blade still in hand. After that, it only took a split second for Emilia and Regis to rip Orianna away from the bard and tear off her other arm. One short moment of surprise and the combined strength of allies broke the ginger vampire’s neck eventually – and literally, because with a sharp twist from Emilia deft fingers, her head was separated from her neck.

Two bodies fell to the ground at the same time, but Jaskier’s impact was cushioned by the blond, who’d abandoned the silver blade and caught him just in time.

“Julian!” He lowered him carefully, his expression alarmed when he turned to Geralt. “He’s still breathing, but barely!”

The witcher didn’t understand what just happened and didn’t care. He was at Jaskier’s side immediately. The bard’s heartrate was barely detectable, his eyes were shut, his skin white as snow. Regis hurried over from where Emilia still took care of the ginger Bruxa. He knelt beside them as the witcher took Jaskier off the stranger’s arms.

The witcher heard himself choke out a pained sound. They had been too late. He’d lost too much blood.

“Geralt, your healing potion!”, Regis snapped.

“It’s for witchers only… it would only kill him faster.”

“I don’t think it will in a smaller dosage!”, his friend countered. “Didn’t Jaskier just cast a sign at Emilia?? It’s the baby, Geralt! If he has enough mutagens in him do what took you years to learn, the potion is his chance!”

Fuck, he didn’t dare to believe- …but was this their only option? With shaking fingers, the witcher fumbled on his belt until he found the vial he’d been looking for.

“Are you sure?”

“No, but we don’t have much of a choice.”

In utter despair, Geralt heaved the bard’s upper body on his own lap, holding his head up with one arm and raised the vial to Jaskier’s pale face. He didn’t pray, but right fucking now, he sent pleas to any and every divine being who was willing to listen. After the first drops trickled into his mouth, the omega gulped and sputtered, then opened his eyes slowly.

“H-Here we are again…”, he wheezed and managed a weak smile. “The witcher and his damsel in distress, ha.”

Geralt’s heart jumped, relief washing through him like a flood. “Hush. You need to rest.”

The blue of his eyes disappeared behind his eyelids again, yet his smile stayed a few seconds longer. “Alright… you’re right… I feel like… resting.”

His eyes fluttered close. The sight was unsettling, frightening, but beyond the adrenaline shock, Geralt heard the omega’s heartbeat become calmer, steadier. Not weaker. The potion got to work; he knew it worked like that and yet-

His hands trembled as he cradled his mate in his arms, letting himself slump back into a sitting position with the omega pulled close to him. The relief only came slowly. Jaskier was alive. He would live. Geralt briefly closed his eyes and breathed out for what felt like the first time in days.

Next to him, Regis sigh sounded almost as relieved as he felt. “That was close. By the way, your toxicity levels smell off the chart.”, his friend pointed out. “Perhaps you should take something too?”

Just as he followed his advice and took a sip of White Honey, Emilia returned to them. She’d evidently taken her time with Orianna, who -despite her grandeur- was nothing more than a pile of limbs on the floor now. The blond stranger had stood silently beside Regis, but when she approached his face lit up and he opened his arms. The vampiress’ followed the invitation, only returning to her human form in his embrace. After a moment, she took a step back and grabbed the blond by the shoulders.

“Where did you come from all of a sudden? I told you to stay behind!”

He shrugged. “Didn’t listen. And don’t look at me like that; I’d say we’re even now, so let’s abandon the secrecy henceforth, yes love?”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“We all could’ve been killed. But it’s over now.”

“Is it?”, Eskel called from the other end of the corridor. He and Lambert came over to them, just as blood-soaked and exhausted as the rest of them. Behind the two witchers, Yen and Triss appeared. Only now that their own fight was over, Geralt realised that the grounds had gone quiet. Those who weren’t dead had probably fled and the victors were all gathered on this very corridor.

Before their friends were with them, Emilia had ducked behind her lover and gently pulled him towards the other side of the corridor. Geralt didn’t stop them; there would be time to contemplate their role in this later on. He was almost glad when the pair disappeared down another staircase. Who knew what the others did when they saw Emilia without knowing about the events of the last half hour.

“Did you find him? Is he alright?”, Yen called and hurried over. When she saw Jaskier, battered and unconscious, she clasped her hands over her mouth.

“He’s alive. Barely.”, Regis clarified when Geralt couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Let me see, maybe I can help.”

She came to her knees beside him while the vampire proceeded to brief her. “He has a headwound, approximately three days old. Also a broken arm, but the worst damage was done by Orianna’s fangs; the blood loss should be fatal under normal circumstances. But Geralt gave him one of his healing potions-”

Both Lambert and Eskel gasped in unison. “You did what? Are you fucking mad, it will kill him!”

“But it doesn’t.” Yen frowned and put her hand on the bard’s forehead, closing her eyes. “It’s already working.”

“That can’t be.”, Eskel claimed, horror written across his face. “It’s only meant for-“

“No, she’s right…”, Lambert interrupted him completely baffled and held up a hand. “Listen!”

After a moment of silence, Yen whispered. “But how?”

While Regis took it upon him to describe what they had witnessed, Geralt preferred to stay quiet still and look at Jaskier while Yen got to work next to him. She silently cast some spells that slowly but surely put some colour back on his cheeks. In between, she briefly grasped the witcher’s forearm. A private gesture of compassion that Geralt felt immensely grateful for.

“Will he be alright?”, Triss eventually asked.

Yen looked up to her with tired yet confident eyes.

“Yes.”

\- - -

Jaskier was out and healing for days and after that, he still slept most of the time. However, when he was awake, the bard smiled weakly at Geralt; he ate and drank the fortifying potions Triss had brewed especially for him. He was exhausted but sane and warm and alive.

Regis and the sorceresses had offered to watch over him, should Geralt need a break but the witcher refused. As for himself, nothing could have been more healing than having him back by his side and making sure it stayed that way.

It took a week before the omega was well enough to leave the bed and a couple of days more before he was truly back on his feet – not counting another pregnancy-induced fever in between and his broken arm that -despite all good care- took longer to heal. If not as long as it should for a human. Apparently, their little miracle helped with that too while it grew bigger inside of him each week.

One morning, about four weeks after the rescue, Geralt awoke to find the other bedside empty. Immediately, this startled him to full consciousness and had him sit up in alert. His hopes to simply relive his vision of the bard as an incubus by the bookcase were met with an empty room.

Not bothering to put on more than his pants, he walked into the hall.

“Jaskier?”

“No, just me.” Lambert answered, leaning on the table and munching on a loaf of bread. “He went into the garden.”

“And you let him.”, Geralt almost snapped. “Alone?”

“Calm down. He got a visitor about an hour ago. They seemed to know each other. What’s wrong?”

The white wolf snatched the bread from his brother’s hand as he passed by.

“Oh nothing, except that everyone seems to forget that Dijkstra is still after him and we can’t let our guard down! “

Not wanting to hear Lambert’s reasoning, Geralt stepped out of the door and into the early sunshine before the other witcher could so much as sigh dramatically. This wasn’t the first time their friends had been easy on the bard. Did they think it was over just because they dealt with the chancellor’s middlemen? Knowing the bastard Dijkstra was, he wouldn’t stop before he got what he wanted.

While stomping towards the greenhouse, Geralt briefly wondered if he overreacted. The memory of his bruised and beaten mate flashed before his inner eyes, as it did so often these days. No. No, he didn’t overreact.

The alpha heard a laugh that definitely belonged to Jaskier. His concern started to fade a bit – until he turned around a corner and saw who the bard was with.

Right next to the celandine branches, he stood chatting with none other than Emilia’s lover. As the witcher approached them, his mate turned to him with a smile that clearly said ‘behave, please’. Not something that the witcher could promise in this case.

“Pierre, meet Geralt. Properly this time.”

The blond knew better than to extend his hand and instead, lightly bowed his head. The witcher just stared at him; he surely wouldn’t bring himself to treat the guy with the hospitality Jaskier felt was in order.

“I’m here in my own.”, the tall man said.

“Don’t believe that for a second.”

The small grin Pierre flashed him proved his suspicions and made him wish that he’d bring his silver sword. Jaskier did either not notice his gloom or decided to ignore it.

“He came by to check up on me and as fate would have it, was just in time to help me with something.”

“I think you helped enough.”, the witcher muttered. “Wouldn’t want to keep you.”

His mate shot him an exasperated look, before turning back to Pierre.

“What he means to say is ‘Thank you for saving all our lives’.”

“That’s not at all what I-“, the alpha began, but the blond interrupted him.

“I didn’t know. I swear. When we had you chasing us through the mountains. I only learned what was going on when I met Julian in Castel Toricella. And, well…” The witcher almost jumped when he had the gall to point at the omega’s belly. “You can’t say that it was all for naught, despite the circumstances.”

No. No, he couldn’t, but that was not the point. However, when Jaskier fondly looked down on himself and then smiled over to the witcher, Geralt’s protectiveness took a step back.

“Hmm.” That was as much gratitude as he could muster. Emilia had better not jump out of some tree with a fanfare.

Pierre seemed to be more tactful than his mate though, because with another friendly glance towards Jaskier, he bowed his head again and said: “It’s time I return home. After all, cheese melts quickly on a sunny day like this.”

The bard grinned back and winked at the man. What now?

As Pierre turned around and headed towards the eastern path, the witcher’s confusion at whatever silent message they’d just exchanged was likely visible, but his mate didn’t offer an explanation and only took him by the hand, pulling Geralt along with him. “Come.”

The voices of the workers around the estate were displaced by birds chirping and a soft breeze toying with the grass and leaves around them as the pair strolled further away and beyond the southern fields. After passing a few bushed that marked the end of the last grapevines, they arrived in the shade of a sturdy weeping willow. The tips of its branches lightly touched the grass around them, its leaves shielding them from view like a curtain; a private room provided by nature.

In the middle of the space, next to the stem, someone had covered the grass with a large blanket. The many cushions atop and the variety of snacks and wines somewhat reminded Geralt of the picnic Keira Metz had once prepared for him, only he much preferred his company today.

“You can’t have wine.”, Geralt pointed out, snaking his arms around the omega’s waist from behind while marvelling the possibilities this little hideout held.

“One of the many small sacrifices I have to make for the next… oh well, another five to six months. Shame. But I’m sure you can entertain me otherwise.”

Absolutely. The alpha was hungry for more than cheese and wine. When he started nibbling on the bard’s neck, teasing the small but satisfyingly visible bite marks he left there, Jaskier leaned his head back; his hands came up to entangle themselves in silver hair.

“I missed you so fucking much.”, he whispered.

Geralt didn’t need to say anything. The scent of his mate alone seemed to send all available blood to his groin, and he knew Jaskier could feel it the way they stood pressed together. When a small moan proved him right, the witcher directed them onto the blanket and pulled him into his lap before capturing his lips.

For a while, they only made out like that, relishing each other’s company. The world beyond the willow branches could move on without them, for all they cared. A hundred years could pass and Geralt would still not get tired of touching Jaskier; feeling him, smelling him. Pleasing him.

Only when the taste of his mouth became slightly salty, the witcher leaned back to make sure the omega was okay. Jaskier’s hair was slightly damp; his cheeks had a rosy tone and his eyes were glazed. Geralt raised a hand to check his forehead. “You’re warm again.”

“Yeah, well.”, the bard huffed. “Maybe another fever. Or just me being incredibly turned on by the prospect of you fucking me for the first time in forever.”

After his first casting during the battle, Jaskier has had other accidental bursts of magic coming from the child inside of him. Regis had barely been able to contain his scientific curiosity when the bard had awoken from unpleasant dreams during an afternoon nap by setting one of the bedroom paintings aflame. Meanwhile, and although his house was on fire, the witcher couldn’t help but feel proud at the idea that their offspring had naturally taken a liking to casting igni.

“Don’t set me on fire when you get too excited.”, Geralt joked. Their shirts already lay forgotten on the other end of the blanket and Geralt had opened their pants, now possessively squeezing Jaskier’s cheeks beneath the loose fabric.

“You’re not a threat, so I’d say chances are pretty small anything is going to burn today.”

“Hmm.” The witcher snuck his fingers between the cleft of the omega’s cheeks, rubbing at his wet entrance. “Something’s going to burn later.”

The enthusiastic gasp that got from the bard was enough invitation for him to dip the tip of his middle finger into his mate – who almost immediately rolled his hips, taking him deeper.

“Greedy.”, Geralt commented and bucked up in return, increasing the friction on their cocks.

“Very.”, his mate breathed and lightly bit the witchers bottom lip. “I want your cock inside of me, right here, right now.”

“Not like this.”, Geralt murmured into their sloppy kiss as the omega wiggled his ass provocatively.

“Why not?”, he whined and started kissing and licking the side of his jaw and down his throat, earning a pleased hum from the alpha. His mate’s eagerness had Geralt grin as he put his free hand on the omega’s belly between them.

“Because our child is starting to get in the way.”

Pausing his shenanigans, Jaskier leaned back a bit and looked down, frowning. When he seemed to realise their impractical position, he groaned.

“Oh gods, please don’t let this be an omen for the years to come… I will love him with all my heart, but we need to make sure we’ll have some private time too.”

“Agreed.”, Geralt assured him before putting his hands underneath the bard’s thighs and lowering him onto his back. “Lots of time when it’s just you and me again.”

He helped Jaskier out of his pants and sent them flying onto their shirts before leaning down and conquering his mouth. The omega gasped into the fierce kiss and used his hand to bring their stiff cocks together. Geralt’s hand sneaked between his things again, his middle and index finger easily slipping into his mate’s hole.

“So warm and slick.”

The bard moaned as he was plugged up by Geralt’s digits. The alpha couldn’t help but watch him; his subtle reactions as the witcher finger-fucked him; his body twitching and his eyes going teary as his sensitive entrance was abused after weeks and weeks of neglect.

“M-more…”

Happy to oblige, the witcher added a third finger, grunting has the obscene sounds they made pushing in and out went straight to his prick. He teased his mate in all the right places, stroking over the spot he knew would make him crazy while sucking and biting at his throat until the skin beneath his lips was dark and bruised. A perfect reminder of who he belonged to; a warning for those who’d dare to try and take him again. The thought alone spurned him on, made him bit the omega’s Adams apple when Jaskier tried to swallow another small moan. Fuck, they were both so hard, pressed together between the omega’s precome-covered fingers.

“If you’re keeping this up, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

“No.”, the bard shouted, half demand, half plea. “Come inside me! I-I want you inside me. Knot me…”

With a roar, Geralt withdrew his fingers from him and snatched Jaskier’s hand away from their cocks, forcefully pressing it into the blanket over his head before using his other hand to shove one of the pillows under the omega’s ass and pulling his leg up higher. Rutting against his exposed wet crack, he slicked himself up just enough.

“Please, I need-“

But the bard didn’t need to beg, not when it had been so, so fucking long since they had been together like this. Not when the memory of almost losing him was still so present. Geralt pressed his tip against the tight ring of muscles and had to squeeze his eyes shut when he breached it. Jaskier’s loud moan together with the tightness drove him mad. He didn’t stop, he couldn’t; pushed all the way inside, splitting him open; stretching him until his cock was sheathed in the omega almost to the hilt.

Fingers grazed the side of his cheek. When he dared to look down, the sight took his breath away. Jaskier was gazing up at him through half-closed eyelids, his brown hair sweat-slick on his forehead, his mouth slightly open in a silent gasp.

That’s when the witcher knew. Destiny had led them here; had brought them together, closer and closer through hardship. Had saved them eventually so they could be right here, where they belonged. Fate had set him on his path to meet him; be with no one else but _him_. This was supposed to be.

He leaned down and kissed the awe off his mate’s face; kissed the tears away from the corner of his blue eyes and started to move. Long, languid thrusts, leaving more and more love inside his mate. Their eyes never left each other until Geralt couldn’t take it any longer. With a loud grunt, he let his forehead fall onto the bard’s chest and let go, slamming his hips into Jaskier beneath him.

The noises the omega made were music to his witcher’s ears; every shout brought him closer to the abyss. He wanted to make him come, needed to take him down with him- needed to-

Before he’d consciously decided to do so, his teeth were buried in Jaskier’s neck, just in time with his next thrust stretching his mate even wider as the alpha’s knot locked him deep inside the omega. With a choked scream, Jaskier arched his back and Geralt could feel his toes curl behind his back as the bard’s cock erupted, spilling white streams all over his belly and chest. His legs twitched, and the tight walls of his hole violently convulsed around the witcher’s dick, milking him mercilessly. Geralt came with stifled growl, shooting his load into the warm body beneath him. As he rode out his orgasm, small pitiful sounds escaped Jaskier’s lips with each shallow thrust. His head was rolled back, his eyebrows drawn together, and he had the most blissful look on his face. _So damn beautiful._ Fuck, it felt so right to fill him up. As if this was Geralt’s sole purpose, a primal and pure calling.

They both lingered in their orgasmic felicity for a few perfect moments. When Geralt came back to his senses, he realised that he was still pressing the bard’s wrist down. Propping himself up on his other forearm, he released him and winced inwardly as he saw the dark marks he’d left on his skin.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to hurt you…”

But the omega just smiled somewhat sloppily as the witcher kissed and licked his bruised skin apologetically. It was then that Geralt realised the fading scars of Orianna’s bite marks.

“Don’t worry.”, Jaskier whispered. “You only took back what was yours.”

With a satisfied hum, the witcher leaned down and proceeded to trail kisses over his still sweat-damp face. _So brave and strong._ For a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d thought or said it, but Jaskier’s glow made him reckon the latter.

When he carefully withdrew himself from the omega, the wet surge of come dripping out of his swollen hole was a sight to behold and told Geralt two things: 1. It had been about damn time and 2. They would only leave this blanket by nightfall.

As they lay together and bathed in the aftermath of their overdue reunion, nibbling on the cheese and some bread to gather their strength, Jaskier drew lazy circles through the alpha’s chest hair and was unusually silent and thoughtful. Geralt had a hunch why.

“Dijkstra should have figured out what happened by now.”, the bard eventually said. “Even if word didn’t get through to him, it wouldn’t have taken four weeks to bring me to Novigrad.”

“Hmm.”, the witcher agreed. “Wanted to talk to you about that…”

Apparently, he didn’t need to elaborate further; Jaskier already seemed to know what he was hinting at. “I don’t want you gone for that long.”

“And I don’t want to go, but it has to be done. And it has to be me.”

His mate nodded, with a frown and his gaze far away. “Yes... Yes, I get it. I really do.”

As Geralt watched him, a shadow of the recent events seemed to flash through Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt himself had awoken once or twice from dreams he didn’t want to share afterwards. Dreams of blood and blue eyes turning dull; of slit abdomen and still bundles. They’d won the battle, yet the witcher felt as if he was still fighting. The thirst for revenge was strong, but so was the need to stay with Jaskier, make sure he was safe – which could not be guaranteed before the root of their problems hadn’t been dealt with.

The omega sighed and mustered a brave smile. He was surely about to tell him that he should go; that he’d be fine in the meantime and Geralt shouldn’t worry…

Oh, what the hell, the alpha thought. One more of the dreaded things couldn’t harm, especially if it meant he’d be back with him in the evening. “Know what, I’ll ask Yen or Triss to portal me there. I’ll be damned if that bastard takes any more time from us.”

The beam that got him confirmed his decision. He brought their foreheads together and closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth and comfort that was Jaskier. “I was worried earlier. Have become so used to waking up with you snoring next to me.”

“I’m here. We both are, thanks to you.”, the bard assured him in a soft voice – before he playfully pinched the witcher’s chest. “Also, excuse you, I don’t snore.”

“’Course not.”

“Anyway, I hope you don’t mean to say you’re getting tired of me.”

Instead of words, Geralt answered the obvious mock-question with a prolonged kiss. “Not of your not-snoring…”, he murmured against Jaskier’s soft lips. “Not of your fishing for compliments.”

The omega laughed as Geralt nibbled on his neck, tickling him with his tongue on purpose. After what they’d been through, he just couldn’t get enough of the sound. Yet, it ended abruptly when the bard’s face became alerted. He lightly pushed the witcher off him and pointed towards a bush not far from them.

Somewhere over there, tweaks cracked. Geralt wasn’t startled this time. He had heard him coming and couldn’t suppress his smug smile when his guess was confirmed by an exasperated voice.

“Why is it that whenever I act out of the goodness of my heart and check up on you two, I find you fucking in the wilderness??”

Poor Lambert indeed.

“Do you think he was listening in?”, Jaskier whispered with a curious, almost intrigued look.

Geralt leaned in and kissed his temple as he murmured: “I know he did.”

The blush that crept onto the bard’s cheek would have had an innocent touch, had it not been for the lascivious smile that accompanied it. Without a warning, the omega took Geralt’s cock in hand, provocatively tucking on it.

“What do you say, shall we give the poor man a good show?”


End file.
